I’m traumatized by the feeling of being abandoned.

I use that word because that’s exactly what it feels like. Maybe I’m not as secure as I thought I was because this feeling destroys me the same way each time, sometimes maybe worse than ever.

It makes me feel disregarded and unwanted. Like I have served my purpose and shall no-longer be needed. I don’t mean this in a kind of way that my self-worth could be tied to any external validation, no – I know exactly who the fck I am, but, as a human being, I know that I want to feel wanted too. In a wholesome way I may add, because everything seems so superficial now.

It’s probably one of the reasons I avoid having sex with men *who don’t like me* because it doesn’t matter how sweet and loving they are at the beginning or before sex, as soon as they nut you can almost always tell how accomplished and satisfied they feel – they got what they wanted, and I probably never will.

It’s in certain cues, the way they look at you with dead eyes, like they aren’t hungry anymore, or don’t even look at you at all… or, in the way there’s little to no touch or playfulness and zero tolerance. You can hear it in their voice because the warmth will be gone, no smiles anymore, those are reserved for the women they are actually in love with while using me as a placeholder, right?

‘Never good enough all the way for love and friendship, just a warm tight hole with perky breasts, only to be desired sexually’ and once that’s up, you can feel it.

So, I just stopped.

I decided that I wouldn’t be partaking in things that give me feelings of guilt and hurt intentionally. I promised to make myself stronger because I know how it ends every time I betray myself- Me in my bed trying to remind myself that I am much more than a vagina while the person I just slept with goes on about their life. It’s just sex, right? It’s just sex. We don’t even need to talk about it, it happens, IT’S JUST SEX!! They don’t owe me anything, it’s just RAW sex.

Everybody who is okay with it tries to show me every waking chance they get that I need to ‘take back my power’ and ‘be in charge’ because sex is not something that’s done to me, rather, something we do together. Convince me that it is also just a nut that I wanted, that that’s my benefit from the sex too.

I’m trying to show them that it just doesn’t make sense. I guess we are the same. People from different camps trying to change each other’s opinions instead of just letting each other be. Refusing to choose each other if we aren’t ready to make the compromise. Walking away from the short end of the stick always.

They want me to act as if sex is not a big deal. Like letting someone touch and see me naked is business as usual. Like I’m throwing a tantrum when I specifically ask for what I want and remain unwilling to falter my choices. I’m being irrational right? To demand emotional safety and exclusivity in order to feel safe and free enough to show up as myself during sex.

They try so hard to convince me that being strict locks me out of the great things (read as casual sex and situationships) I might never experience. They sell me a beautiful pitch about ‘that’s how it starts’, I have to fuck around, have a hoe phase so I can detach myself emotionally from sex and then MAYBE I’ll get chosen – only after I put out a few times first.

They feel that this is the best advice to give me, that if only I was flexible enough to be able to enjoy sex that does nothing for my soul, or if I detach emotion from the sex, maybe I’d understand how good and super fun it can be. That maybe I shouldn’t even want to be chosen, that I should be okay with the fact that I should be ready to give myself completely for nothing because hio ndio inabamba.

That it is better to be a woman without emotion, a woman without intense feelings about who she shares her nakedness with.

They forget that I refuse to participate because I already have. I know how it ends. I’ve already gone that route and it is the sole reason I know it is not for me. I need someone who is sure about me. Someone who is my friend. Someone I can trust with my body.

Someone who is ready to partake in the worship of our bodies.

Better to be chosen than not at all. Better to have crumbs than nothing to eat at all.

I get it. I’ve cried myself to sleep because of just how lonely life can be when your standards go up, it still isn’t anything comparable to the tears I cried when I realized I was selling myself short by always being the understanding warm hole. I had no idea! They call it ‘friendship’ these days just so as to not raise any suspicion, to make you willing and convince you it was your idea from the get-go.

‘You brought yourself to my house knowing we might fuck, right?’ ‘I already told you I can’t give you what you want, I’m not ready for commitment.’ ‘I’m emotionally unavailable and you already know that.’ ‘Don’t fall in love with me, it’s just raw sex every day and I like you a lot, but I don’t want a girlfriend.’

They’ll tell you themselves. All you need to do is listen. That’s all I ever needed to do. Shut up and listen then decide if it’s what you really want and enjoy.

Nobody told me I had the power to ask for what I wanted and receive exactly that or better only!

A lot of people always tried to convince me that I aim too high and expect too much and that’s when I stumble the hardest- when I listen to anything that goes against improving my life. Despite the occasional loneliness and wishing I had someone to help me unzip my dresses, I think my life is pretty okay single. My bills are paid, I’m healthy especially emotionally and mentally – oh, no STDs or pregnancy scares either, which is pretty ideal for me. I’d pick this any day over the anxiety of why someone that just saw me naked can go a whole week without talking to me, seeing me, caring for me. Why?

Am I insecure? Am I asking for too much? Is this not a normal human need?

They’d rather have me on kifo cha mende, dead and unresponsive than not at all. They’d rather have me when I’m unsure about how it ends up for me and my feelings rather than give me what I want first. It is better for them not to ever experience the kind of woman I am sexually when loved correctly – because they’d just rather not love me but still have sex with me.

It’s my fault because I let them. I heard them say it clearly to me that they want me for nothing other than sex, so why am I acting surprised and hurt, right? I knew what it was.

It sucks that part of the female heterosexual* process is me having to go home and ask myself real time questions about why I’m still so okay with disrespecting myself by refusing to go for exactly what I want and agreeing to settle for what’s not for me. Most times my counterparts are just happy they got to fuck. I could be a duck in my body, and they’d just be happy I was easy access.

Did I really even consent to it though? Was I a willing participant in a sexual endeavor that doesn’t promise me emotional safety?

Did I really ever say, ‘Yes we can have sex, I want to have raw sex with you even though you can never offer me the kind of environment I require to open my body up to you.’

Did I say that? Did I agree? Is this what I really want, to have sex that means nothing then act like I’m not affected to the point I must suppress my natural intense feelings towards sex???

… Or did you just keep pushing for it until I gave in because I was afraid of being abandoned. Afraid you would leave me if I didn’t give in yet I’m starting to fall in love with the idea of getting to know you more, to be your friend. Did you coerce me?

The feeling doesn’t go away. The fear of sex with men *who don’t like me*.

Good men. Kind men. Respectful men. Generous men. All men *who don’t like me*.

The panic attacks when someone even remotely insinuates that they want to have sex with me. Why? For what? Because I speak about sex so openly? Because I look like I love to fuck? Because I have a vagina? Which one is it because that’s all it ever is.

I’m not participating. I’m not disrespecting myself anymore. I’m not pretending that I don’t want the things I want so bad just to make other people comfortable and at the expense of my body too.

The worst part is that I can’t talk about it, I can say it, I can write about it. I could make a song even … they still wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t listen. I’m just a warm hole, remember? It’s just sex, right?

That is why my solution is to stop participating. I don’t want to pretend anymore that I enjoy the lack of humanness in the interaction. My skin on your skin is nothing casual.

Sex is a ritual for me. A dance. A worship.

My soul doesn’t feel worshipped when you fuck me then have to be at a bash with the boys in 5 minutes all the time. Why did you come to me when you’re clearly in love with the boys? There’s no consideration, I mean nothing to you.

Because I gave you access right? Because you told me the truth about your intentions and even though I ‘didn’t’ agree, I thought you would change your mind if I gave in. I was an easy lay, the type you show up for 15 mins to nut in. no flowers, no communication, no friendship, just you with a dick everyone has seen. It’s my fault.

No, I don’t want you to call an uber immediately we’re up, I don’t want to feel so easily discarded after you nutted.

I don’t want you to remind me how you’re in a rush, that you so desperately need to be somewhere else right now.

What? It’s not realistic and you have things to do and places to be? You have to go to work? You need me out of your house ASAP so you can get to doing your things.

 I heard you.

It’s me. I’m the problem. I knew that I don’t like this feeling, but I still allowed myself to be back in this predicament. I knew I deserved more, but I was scared of losing your friendship more than I was of breaking my own heart again, so I settled. I convinced myself it would be fine but it’s not. I had things to do too last night. Fantasies to create but instead, I pushed them to the side and delivered myself to you. Easy prey. I made it easy because I removed all and any expectations. I fell for it again!!

It’s my fault.

I’m the one crying in bed by myself, wondering how I let myself feel like this again. Blaming myself for choosing wrong because I must take accountability.

I have to pick myself up again and still act okay. Act like my heart is not shattering. Hold my tongue because my emotions might be met with the classic ‘you’re asking for too much, I already told you I can’t give you what you want, I’m not ready for commitment.’

I wasn’t ready for sex either. I didn’t want to get that far but I did, It’s my fault.

I stopped participating because they kept taking from me… always taking from me without replenishing me.

I always felt empty afterwards, like I have to give myself the aftercare all over again. Like I was alone when I was crying out of pain.

I was alone when I was saying no sex without a condom please and I was even more alone when I had to get the birth control too.

I was alone when the pills were fucking me up. I went through all the emotions by myself when I couldn’t even tell the person who had my legs up in the air hours ago that I just needed him to hold my hand and kiss my forehead. He was my friend tho.

I’m not participating anymore.

Every time he would nut, he had somewhere else to be. And I still let him touch me the next time he came over. Every damn time I convinced myself that the sex was so good and I needed it. I needed to suppress my emotions if I wanted a crumb of sex or else if I dared complain, he would starve me sexually for months. He would ignore me, lock me out emotionally. Punish me for having feelings because he had already warned me about having none towards me.

He was my friend though, right? And he cared about me that’s why he told me the truth instead of leading me on. He was honest the whole time, it’s my fault for needing too much to enjoy sex.

I got tired.

I get that we are different and human beings aren’t always binary. I can understand that we enjoy different things. To say all this is not to portray myself to be better than anyone else, or that my way is what’s ideal for everyone. I just know that it is my personal standards and that those who are like me will find me.

We don’t need to spend the rest of our lives changing others or trying to convince them to hop camps, we just need to be cognizant of our own needs and go for exactly that while minimizing distractions along the way – without intentionally hurting others too.

I got tired of always having to ask, where is the AFTERCARE?

I left him.

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